


All Your Light (Day Four-Scars)

by providentialeyes



Series: Morston Week 2020 [4]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Body Worship, Dominant John, Grinding, Morston Week 2020, Other, Pet Names, Praise Kink, Pre-Canon, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Tenderness, non-binary john marston, really it's bratty john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/providentialeyes/pseuds/providentialeyes
Summary: “Oh sorry, was that not enough?” John says and smiles, sly, leaning back in, smiling more as Arthur leans back, “C’mon,Art, let me kiss it better.”“John,” Arthur says and it’s a complete change in tone, a firm and angry warning, “Don’t fool ‘round like this after you go n’ call me…”John blinks in surprise, watching the older man cautiously.“Just don’t joke ‘round like that,” Arthur says quietly.“Like what?” John asks breathily, a bit shakier than he’d even like to admit.“Like you really do think I’m‘fine’,”Arthur whispers.
Relationships: John Marston/Arthur Morgan
Series: Morston Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874179
Comments: 13
Kudos: 92
Collections: Morston Week 2020





	All Your Light (Day Four-Scars)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from [Little Boxes by Meadowlark](https://open.spotify.com/track/6OUsFgYqwrdRcpt4cLXKf3?si=-0AMjNm-TA-UJN4vPaA2wQ)

“You’re fine.”

“My face ain’t.”

“Just grow that bush back in, no one’ll notice.”

“Ha ha.”

“Seriously, Arthur,” John murmurs as Arthur wipes away another gush of blood, “It should heal small.”

“With your messy work?” Arthur huffs and watches as John threads the needle, wipes off the soot from holding it over the candle. 

“Hey, I’ve gotten better,” John grumbles defensively and kicks at Arthur’s boot so the older man spreads his legs and John can step closer.

“Yeah, and that crooked lil’ shitty-” Arthur nearly bites his tongue when John grabs his chin, the younger looking down at him, thoroughly unamused. 

“Be quiet,” John says, soft and threatening, “Or I’ll make it look like you’ve got somethin’ obscene on your chin.”

Arthur snorts softly and slowly settles the weight of his head in John’s hand. 

Peeking up at the younger through his lashes. 

John purses his lips, unyielding, and takes the rag from Arthur, clearing away the fresh blood before making the first stab. 

\--

It gets infected once, and Arthur bitches about the pain whenever they’re alone, pointedly checks the wound in his shaving mirror whenever John’s in his tent. 

John lets him, mostly uncontested. 

He still feels guilty. 

\--

Arthur gains a new habit, when he’s thinking, he rubs the side of his thumb over the ridge of silvery scar tissue on his chin. 

John catches him doing it a couple times, six times, before he realizes that it’s the scar Arthur’s messing with, not just his scruff. 

John can’t bring himself to ask if it hurts. 

\--

“Nah, she weren’t into me,” Arthur flicks the butt of his cigarette into the fire.

“Your ugly mug pro’ly drove her off,” Bill says with as much bite as a milk-toothed mouse as he walks away from the fire, “Goodnight.”

“Yeah,” Arthur says, but it sounds off. 

John lifts his gaze from the flames and sees Arthur staring into the fire, rubbing his thumb over the scar on his chin. 

It’s almost unnoticeable, with the scruff growing in, slightly longer than Arthur used to keep it. 

“Y’know they say ‘rugged’ is in vogue,” John jokes lightly, gauging. 

Arthur huffs and sinks down to the ground, on the same level now as John. 

“‘In vogue’,” Arthur mutters, “What kinda things you been readin’?”

John rolls his eyes but holds out his own cigarette after one last drag. 

Arthur frowns at it, at John. 

“C’mon, know you been rationin’ again, take it,” John says quietly. 

“Funds are low,” Arthur says, like he needs to make an excuse when his fingers brush against John’s and pinch the paper. 

John doesn’t mean to stare as Arthur pulls in and blows the smoke in a thin stream up into the night. 

But he still does. 

“Thanks,” Arthur says softly, still looking up at the stars. 

\--

“John’s too young, Bill’s too mean,” Dutch sighs and makes a dramatic gesture at the table with the map on it, “Must I do it all myself?”

“I could do it,” Arthur says with a quirked brow, “Don’t I usually?”

“Well, yeah, usually, but, Son, these are…” Dutch trails off, then smiles, easy, “Delicate women to be wooed. Persuaded.”

“Uh-huh,” Arthur says slowly, “How’s that new?”

“Son, I just don’t know if you’d make the right impression,” Dutch gestures at his own face, chin, “What with…”

“Oh,” Arthur says quietly, nose wrinkling.

“Don’t make _faces_ now, Arthur, and help me with this path.”

\--

“Arthur,” John nods in greeting, watching the older man come out of Dutch’s tent, “You headin’ out?”

“No,” Arthur says shortly and continues on. 

John’s brows furrow in confusion and he turns to watch as Arthur stalks off into the woods. 

“The hell’s wrong with him?” Bill slurs. 

“Shut up, Bill,” John mutters back then gets to his feet, dusting his pants off and following cautiously. 

\--

He finds Arthur sitting on a rock looking down into a little creek John didn’t even know was nearby. 

“Hey, Arthur?” John prompts slowly. 

Sees Arthur twitch in response, but the older man doesn’t respond. 

“You alright?”

“It ain’t even a big scar,” Arthur huffs and casts a stone sharply into the water, making a frog hop quickly out of the way in the wake of the splash. 

“What?” John comes up next to the boulder and looks up at the older man, “This ‘bout your chin ‘gain?”

“Again?” Arthur asks with a frown, then rolls his eyes, “Yes. No. S’stupid.”

“You’re pretty… Upset,” John says carefully. 

Arthur just huffs quietly again. 

John watches the older man for a minute than climbs up on the boulder, bullying Arthur into giving him just enough room to sit flush against the older man. 

“What happened?”

“Dutch said my face is too ‘indelicate’ to ‘persuade’ some rich women,” Arthur says quietly, “And now I say that it seems real foolish for me to be throwin’ a fit over it.”

“You ain’t ‘throwin’ a fit’,” John mutters and knocks his knee against Arthur’s, “Sorry it ain’t… Smoother.”

“Not your fault.”

“Ain’t yours neither.”

Arthur rocks his head in disagreement but doesn’t verbalize it. 

Still, John can’t let it stand. 

“It ain’t,” John says quietly, “And it don’t look bad or nothin’.”

“It’s just ‘rugged’,” Arthur says wryly. 

“You ain’t a baby, you supposed to walk ‘round with flawless skin?” John huffs, “You look just as fine as you did before.”

Arthur slowly turns to look at him and John blinks as he plays back what he just said. 

“’Just as fine’?” Arthur asks, amused. 

“Oh, like you don’t know you’re handsome,” John rolls his eyes and looks down at the water, feeling his cheeks pink, “Shove that fib back where it came out or I’ll do it myself.”

“Hm.”

“Arthur,” John warns softly, “Take it back.”

“How?” Arthur asks and it comes out like a heavier question than just admitting a lie. 

Comes out like a reckoning of whether it _was_ a lie. 

John turns to look at the older man and Arthur’s rubbing his thumb over the scar again.

The younger hesitates, then reaches out and grabs Arthur’s hand, pulling it down. 

“Stop doin’ that,” John mutters, “You can hardly even see it.”

“Now who’s lyin’?”

“… Art, it don’t,” John wrinkles his nose and squeezes the older man’s hand, “I meant it, you do look _fine_ , with the scar, just...”

Arthur hums quietly in response and John squeezes the older man’s hand again, pulls apart Arthur’s fingers and rubs the pad of his thumb over Arthur’s hands. 

The little dips and nicks and bruises, the scars and freckles. 

“You havin’ fun, Johnny?” Arthur asks quietly, softly. 

John grimaces at the nickname and pinches between two of Arthur’s fingers lightly. 

Arthur lets out a small, gasping laugh. 

“Damn, alright, you did it first,” Arthur huffs and his fingers flex in John’s hold.

“What?”

“Called me ‘Art’,” Arthur says, looks down at the water, “Ain’t heard that in years.”

“… Special circumstances.”

“Oh? And what are those circumstances?”

“You, bein’ a fool.”

Arthur rolls his eyes and pulls his hand back. 

John hesitates, then leans in and grabs Arthur’s chin, pressing his lips in a sloppy and brief kiss on the scar. 

Pulling back as Arthur flinches away, stares at him. 

“Sorry- I-” John snickers and sits back, dropping his hands to his lap, “You just look so damn sad.”

Arthur blinks at him then grimaces, wiping his chin and sitting back up. 

“Thanks,” Arthur mutters sarcastically. 

“Oh sorry, was that not enough?” John says and smiles, sly, leaning back in, smiling more as Arthur leans back, “C’mon, _Art_ , let me kiss it better.”

“John,” Arthur says and it’s a complete change in tone, a firm and angry warning, “Don’t fool ‘round like this after you go n’ call me…”

John blinks in surprise, watching the older man cautiously. 

“Just don’t joke ‘round like that,” Arthur says quietly. 

“Like what?” John asks breathily, a bit shakier than he’d even like to admit.

“Like you really do think I’m ‘ _fine_ ’,” Arthur whispers. 

“And if I really do?” John frowns, leaning in a bit, squinting at the older man, “Why’re you actin’ like this is some big deal?”

“… I’m just sayin’, don’t make me think me somethin’ funny,” Arthur says roughly, still leaning back. 

“Like what?”

“Like I want you to do it again and mean it,” Arthur says thinly, a small and shaky and _trusting_ admission, “Like I want you to kiss me and call me fine and _mean it.”_

John stares down at the older man, swallowing lightly. 

“Sit up,” John says carefully. 

“Why-”

“Just do it, Arthur.”

Arthur watches him suspiciously as he sits up. 

John shifts and carefully moves to kneel, swinging his leg over Arthur’s thighs, listening to the older man inhale sharply. 

John settles himself in the older man’s lap and presses his lips together as he holds onto Arthur’s shoulder, steadies himself with a hand at the top of the older man’s sternum. 

“Sorry to say that I do,” John whispers, leans in and presses his lips to the scar, lingering for a second, pulling back just enough to speak, “You’re _fine_ , Mr. Morgan.” 

Arthur’s eyes close and the older man breathes out shakily, moving his hands to squeeze John’s waist. 

John’s lips move up his jaw, leaving soft kisses every so often, until he can kiss just below Arthur’s ear, murmuring. 

“Mean it.”

“John,” Arthur says shakily and shifts the both of them, dragging his hand down one of John’s thighs and digging his fingertips in. 

“You-” John huffs a soft laugh, plays with Arthur’s collar as he comes back to face the older man, “You get off on bein’ told your pretty?”

“No… I-” Arthur swallows and keeps his eyes closed, fingers flexing on John’s thigh.

John thinks about it for a moment, weighs the risk of a negative reaction against how damn _bad_ he wants to know if he can make Arthur beg. 

“You ever notice people watchin’ you?” John asks, shifts innocently, readjusting his weight, “When you got your shirt off n’ you’re doin’ some chore or another?”

“No,” Arthur whispers, “Watchin’ me?”

“ _Watchin_ ’, Art, watchin’ and wishin’ you was doin’ some ‘chores’ with them,” John shifts his weight again, fits his hips with Arthur’s until he feels the older man, hard and pressing between his thighs. 

“Shit,” Arthur gasps and drops his face into the crook of John’s neck, hiding, “John- Johnny.”

“They all think you’re fine, Arthur,” John muses, bringing his hand up to cradle the back of Arthur’s head, playing with the honey brown hair, “Real fine, n’ _real_ pretty.”

A short, small huff of disbelief leaves Arthur before he makes a smaller, needier sound. 

“And I do too, really,” John says slowly, “Thought ‘bout it lot.”

“What?” Arthur whispers against John’s neck. 

“Havin’ your arms ‘round me, wakin’ up to your _handsome_ face,” John says, feeling his cheeks grow warmer at his own syrupy tone, “Ridin’ you and watching your mouth say my name.”

“Jesus,” Arthur breathes out and tugs lightly on John’s thigh, rocking his hips lightly, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, y’know, you got a pretty mouth too, Morgan, kinda upset you’re hidin’,” John jokes, “Would love to see how it looks when you moan.”

“I ain’t hidin’,” Arthur grumbles and starts to pull back, taking the bait, “And I ain’t- Nngh-”

John sucks on his teeth to stop himself from grinning and rolls his hips again, using his hand in Arthur’s hair to gently tilt the older man’s head back, studying Arthur’s face. 

Parted lips, heated eyes. 

John looks down at the older man fondly and smiles. 

“Pretty mouth you got there, _pretty boy,”_ John murmurs, “Feel as good as it looks?”

“Maybe,” Arthur says slowly.

“Wanna let me be the judge of that?”

Arthur lets out a small breath, shock and want and his head is spinning too fast to think up any kinda comeback. 

“Please,” Arthur whispers 

John breaks character, laughs softly again and brings his other hand up to cover his own face in embarrassment. 

“Jesus Christ, John,” Arthur breathes out heavily then groans again, more annoyed this time, wrapping his arms around John’s back and fighting the younger until he can hide his face in John’s neck again. 

John holds the back of his head and continues to snicker as he lets Arthur support his full weight, the older man making a choked sound when John tilts his hips. 

“C’mon,” Arthur whispers, “Don’t tease me.”

“But I like it,” John says petulantly, “And you do to, pretty boy.”

Arthur mumbles something foul, muffled against John’s shirt. 

**Author's Note:**

> [my twitter](https://www.twitter.com/gwennolmarie)  
> Munchy is hosting the Morston Week here's more info  
> [Morston Week Twitter](https://twitter.com/MorstonWeek)  
> [Morston Week Tumblr](https://morstonweek.tumblr.com/)  
> And here's [the collection!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/MorstonWeek2020)


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